


stranded.

by outpastthemoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brokeback purgatory, Kisses, M/M, Purgatory, Season gr8, meanwhile in Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outpastthemoat/pseuds/outpastthemoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We should go,” Cas says.  He’s crouched on the ground next to the bodies, perched like a bird about to take flight, and for once it’s not him who’s having the meltdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stranded.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [Gestrandet (Übersetzung)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/971049) by [lumidaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumidaub/pseuds/lumidaub)



“We should go,” Cas says.  He’s crouched on the ground next to the bodies, perched like a bird about to take flight, and for once it’s not him who’s having the breakdown.  
  
You’re bent over, hands on your knees, breathing heavily and splattered with blood.  Not your own.  “Gimme a minute,” you say hoarsely.  “Or five.  You can time me.”  
  
“I have already explained that there is no way to measure time here, Dean,” he says patiently, and you glance up, startled, because it really sounds like  _him_ , and Cas is looking at you, head tilted slightly, and it’s that _look_.    
  
The one made up of an equal measure of exasperation and fondness, and when he catches your eye and holds it in a steady gaze you realize, achingly, just how long it’s been since you’ve seen that particular expression on his face.  How for once his eyes don’t immediately slide away from yours, looking guilty and furtive.    
  
It’s a look that belongs solely to Cas,  _your_  Cas, because you’ve never seen anything quite like the quiet adoration right there all over his face in all your days, and _God_ , you’ve missed that look so much that you could almost kiss him.

So you do.     
  
He leans in close to you, and you remember telling him once  _personal space, Cas,_  but never complaining again.  Cas touches your shoulder nervously, asking, “Dean?” and you have to swallow suddenly around the lump in your throat, but you reach out and take hold of his face carefully, and before you can take a moment to wonder what the hell you’re doing you brush your lips across his cheek.    
  
Then you drop your hands and stand up, dusting off your jeans, but Cas is still as stone.  He touches his cheek wonderingly.  “What was  _that?_ ” he breathes.   
  
“It’s just a kiss, Cas,” you say gruffly, and he looks up at you with wide eyes.    
  
“What does it mean?” he asks quietly.  
  
You wipe your blade off with the edge of your battered shirt.  “It just means…” you take a breath, marveling to yourself about how you can be stranded in purgatory and yet somehow nothing is quite as important as explaining to Cas what you mean, what he means to you.    
  
“It means that I’m glad you’re here, with me,” you say, and you mean it.   “It means I’m glad you’re my friend.”     
  
Cas drops his eyes and smiles at the ground, his fingertips still resting on his cheek, and you can remember  _do I detect a note of forgiveness_  and you think, well, if we can finally make it through _this_  and come out all right, hey, maybe being stuck here isn’t such a bad thing, and anyway you’ve already taken on heaven and hell and the end of the world, you and Cas, so what’s a little purgatory to that?


End file.
